


Heart

by honeycomb95



Series: Sylvix Week 2019 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Closeted Character, Drabble, Felix has insecurities, Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I'm a sucker for closure, Light Angst, M/M, Sylvain is trying his best okay, Sylvix Week 2019, it's the same AU okay, oh my god they were roommates, roommate au, technically a continuation of day 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-20 19:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21061601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeycomb95/pseuds/honeycomb95
Summary: Some things are harder to say than others, but Sylvain and Felix talk it through.Written for Sylvix week. Day 4:Roommate AU/ Bodyswap /Rain





	Heart

**Author's Note:**

> _*gasp*_ oh my god they were _roommates._

“I can't believe you said 'fuck' in front of a baby.” A large hand pushes through messy ginger curls as they climb the creaky porch steps.

“Who cares. It's barely even functional at this stage so it's not like it has any clue what I said.” Damp inky locks are nonchalantly flicked to the side.

“Please stop talking about the baby as if she's an inanimate object,”

“It pretty much is, they don't exactly do tricks at three months old.”

“Tricks? She's also not a_ dog,_ Felix._” _The key turns in the front door lock with a stuttered _click,_ giving way to let the cold, rain soaked humans into the equally cold - thankfully dry - house. They'd only been away for two days but the unmistakable smell of static, stale air permeated the whole place.

“True, dogs at least make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Babies only serve to make me want to vom inside my mouth.” Felix slams his sodden messenger bag down onto their wobbly wooden coffee table with all the grace of a drowned cat and as Sylvain processes the words he realizes that's actually pretty close to how his boyfriend looks right now. He drops his jangling house keys into the hand-turned oak bowl on the edge of their kitchen counter.

“Oh yeah? You seemed pretty pleased to me when she grabbed your thumb.” He grins as Felix's mouth gapes like a goldfish for a solid second.

“I was just _mildly impressed_ that it was capable of curling it's fingers.”

“_She,_ Felix, she.”

“Yes, yes. She.” Felix's back was turned to him as he busied himself with boiling the kettle for no doubt another coffee, but that didn't stop Sylvain from spotting the pink tinge that stained the tips of his ears as he pottered about with kitchenware and coffee jars.

And as much as he was sure that – in all his chiseled glory – he looked absolutely _banging_ in the dripping burgundy sweater currently plastered to his chest, Sylvain doubted the pros of being so soaked and irresistibly sexy outweighed the cons of potentially catching a cold and dying a slow, painful, snotty death. The jury was still out on that one, though.

A dry change of clothes it was, then, perhaps something warm and snuggly to cancel out the October chill.

“Well I'm off to try and peel these jeans from my frankly _amazing_ ass, though I might need a little help if you know what I'm sayi-” Sylvain _nearly_ dodges the aptly-named throw cushion, but it whacks into the side of his face with a muted _poof_ anyway and ricochets against the teal blue wall, knocking a picture frame to the floor with a clatter. He knows exactly which photo it is, too: a group shot of the four of them grinning ear to ear when he, Felix (who was definitely _not_ grinning), Dimitri and Ingrid were in their teens. Thankfully the glass is still intact when he scoops up the battered frame and returns it to it's sun bleached spot on the wall. Felix huffs softly behind him as he sips his fresh piping hot coffee.

“Take your own damn jeans off, I'm not your servant.” He mumbles into the steam of his drink.

“No, you're my boyfriend. Which, now that I think about it is actually where the overlap lies with the whole 'taking off my jeans' thing, but I mean for science's sake we cou-”

“It's boyfriend now, is it?” Felix's words are quiet but clear and the bitterness cuts straight through the banter of whatever train of thought Sylvain had been following, silencing him immediately.

“Fe, don't. You know how I feel about you and I've always been clear on that.”

“Oh. So that's why you still refer to me as your 'roommate' with your parents when you think I'm out of earshot?” The temperature in the house had finally managed to return to a comfortable level, but the chill that Felix's words sent down Sylvain's spine was sharp and icy cold.

“Felix if there's anyone else on the planet who understands exactly what my parents are like, it's you. You know how they are.” Sylvain fumbles with his hands.

“Homophobic, you mean?” The words are spat in his direction and Sylvain visibly winces.

“They're... old fashioned. Traditional.”

“Traditional, yes. Boy meets girl, boy marries girl as a cover up and is forced to sire babies he doesn't even want to keep the lie going, did I get that right?” Felix won't meet his eyes as the steam continues to swirl from the raised mug clasped too tightly in his hands.

Sylvain pauses in stunned silence as memories of his older brother's glorified sham of a wedding flood his brain, unbidden. The summer sunset had bathed the packed gazebo in a russet glow and set both the wreathes of white lilies and bride's ivory dress alight. There couldn't have been a more beautiful and joyous setting to dedicate yourself wholly to the person that you love. If only Miklan had loved her. “That's not fair.” He whispers more to himself than anyone else. “Miklan made his choice, he isn't me.”

“But eventually you'll have to make a choice too, right?” Felix is looking at him now, the barb gone from his voice and eyes both. “What about when they ask you why you haven't 'settled down with a nice girl' yet? When they start nagging you about _kids?_”

“I-” Sylvain falters. “...I don't want to have this fight right now, can't we just curl up in bed and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist?” He's whining, he knows he is and he knows that he's just running circles around the problem but ain't that just a metaphor for his whole damn life.

Felix visibly bristles but then softens almost as quickly. “I don't want to start a fight.” He slumps, deflated, onto the soft leather of the barstool behind him. “I don't want to try and tell you how to live, or how to come out because god knows I didn't exactly do the best job of that myself.”

He recalls the slack shock on Rodrigue's half-shaven face when a fifteen year old Felix had stormed into their bathroom just to say: _“listen, I'm gay and I don't need your approval. I like men and that's it.”_ After a second of flabbergasted silence his father had just nodded robotically and given him an enthusiastic thumbs up – to which Felix responded in the only way he knew how: by awkwardly slamming the bathroom door in his old man's face.

“I just... I don't want to feel like a dirty secret.” Felix despises how his voice cracks near the end, betraying his emotions as he tries to keep a straight face.

Sylvain takes an experimental step forward and when he's met with no resistance he scoops Felix into his arms, placing his chin on top of his lover's head with absolutely zero grace and a soft _thunk_. As always Felix is the perfect height for forehead kisses and Sylvain has never been one to miss the chance to shower the man in smooches. He does just that. Felix laughs low and off-kilter as he wriggles free of Sylvain's grip, wavering on his tip-toes as he unsuccessfully tries to plant a kiss of his own beneath that familiar mop of ginger hair. It's quite a spectacular fail that results in Sylvain's poor eye getting hit twice in one day but hey, he's not gonna hold it against the guy.

“You're hardly a secret. Dimitri and Ingrid have known about us since day one.” When Felix opens his mouth for what was doubtlessly another snarky quip Sylvain raises a hand in protest. “I know that's not the point. I hear you and I swear to god or anyone else who's listening Fe that I _am_ going to tell them. It was never my intention to make you feel unimportant, I'm sorry.” He kisses him then, long and languidly as if he had all the time in the world to lose himself in Felix. Honestly if you told him he could only do one thing for the rest of his days that's _definitely_ what he'd choose.

However, reality calls eventually and he pulls back, analyzing the expression on his lover's face as he holds him gently between his palms. A pretty blush had dusted itself across Felix's cheeks and from this close up Sylvain could count every single freckle on the slightly crooked bridge of his nose.

It takes him a second to come back down to earth and realize Felix is talking. “-you.” Felix looks at him expectantly and Sylvain scrambles to dig through his mental archives, trying to play back the scene in his head. Footage not found, fuck. He's just gonna have to bite the bullet, eh?

“I, uh, sorry I missed that just now. What were you saying, Fe?” He can already hear the cutting reply from the other lamenting him and his inattentiveness.

“I _said_ 'I love you'.”

“_...Fuck._”

“Syl_vain._” He lets out an unceremonious _oof_ when Felix's elbow connects with his side. When he's through the worst of the coughing fit he laughs, deep and bellowing as he pulls his better half in for another hug.

“Yes, no, sorry. I love you too.”


End file.
